Between The Scenes
by David N. Brown
Summary: A retelling of Pat and Tiffany's story- without Pat and Tiffany. Von and Ronnie-centered, with Pat Sr for extra goodness. More or less a "prequel" to "Letters to Tommy".
1. Reading the Signs

**After getting positive feedback for "Letters to Tommy", I decided it was worth doing at least one more SLP fic. I plan on making this a combination of two different ideas, and this time I don't have an especially clear plan just where I will go with this. That also means I can't say how much this will tie in to "Letters". For now, here's a scene with Pat, Senior and the kind of crazy that I usually have fun with. **

Pat Peoples, Senior shut the door to his study and carefully got out the sports page. He set it down, on top of hundreds of pages of printouts from his friend/ business associate Randall Feinberg. He carefully read the sports page front to back without pause, then read it again, regularly pausing to check something on the printouts. He sighed. He was going to need some help with this.

His wife banged the door and then opened it. "Pat just left for a run," she said. "Just a thought, as long as he's home, you should start talking to him ."

"He'll be fine, Dolores," he said. He thought to himself: _Fuckin' fine. For now._

"There's a real world out there, Patricio," his wife said. "Our son has to live in it, even if you didn't. Maybe he would be doing it better if you spent time with him instead of burying yourself in sports statistics." When he did not speak, or show any reaction, she shut the door.

As soon as she was gone, Pat sighed and shook his head. Jeanie had never understood, and never would. She thought he was obsessed with the Eagles because it gave him an escape from reality, from their family. She had said it often, the way she did when she really believed it. She said he was delusional for thinking he could jinx the Eagles, and on top of that, it was like practicing witchcraft. She even said the reason he got bad moods because he cared more about the Birds than his own family.

She would never understand.

He knew the truth. He knew there wasn't some force in the universe that would let the Greatest Team Ever lose just because one fan did the jinx. But he knew that everything in this world was interconnected. It was like the butterfly that flapped its wings in the Amazon and you got a fuckin rainy day. There might be a million fuckin things that mattered, but there was always a chance that one fuckin little thing would make all the difference…

And the difference went both ways.

Jeanie had almost got it there. She had said herself that their worst fights were always after the fuckin' Birds lost, and blamed him and his moods for that. He deserved the blame, he wasn't delusional, but he knew there was another side to it. When he got bad moods after the fuckin Birds fuckin choked, it wasn't_ just _because he cared so much for the Birds. It was because he knew, when the Birds lost, it meant the bad moods were coming. He could try to change it, God knows he _had_ tried, but trying to make things different had only convinced him it was true. He and the Birds were _connected_, and that was _why_ he loved them. When he jinxed the Birds, he jinxed himself, and not just himself, but his family.

Especially Junior.

That was why this mattered. Somewhere in here, there was a secret of how to help the Birds, and if he could find it, he could help Junior get better. But to find it, he would need help. God was always on call, but you couldn't really talk to God like you could with a Birds fan. You couldn't talk to dead people, either, because that was witchcraft.

But, you could always talk to Phil Silvers.

"I'm dead too, you know," said Phil. Pat didn't see Phil, or really hear him, he wasn't fuckin crazy, but the voice was there in his head, and it sounded just like old Phil did in _Mad, Mad, World_. The voice sounded like a weasely gasbag like Phil's guy, too.

_You aren't Phil, you're just Phil's voice,_ Pat thought. He knew "Phil" could hear just fine without him talking aloud, which would upset Jeanie. _You're a lying sonuvabitch too, which is why you sound just like Phil, but I need all the help I can get._ He began reading through all the papers again, for Phil. Phil was a lying sonuvabitch, but he was sharp, and often Phil would catch on to something before Pat did.

"Well, Pat," said Phil, "I don't see what you called me for. All those numbers just prove what anybody can see: The odds on the next Eagles game are exactly even. There is no advantage or disadvantage in either team that isn't balanced out by another."

**_Of course,_**_ they're even, I know they're fuckin even,_ Pat thought, _but where's the fuckin sign?_

"I see, you want to engage in the practice of stichomancy, divination by passages of religious texts or other books of presumed importance," Phil said. "I don't recall hearing of anyone using the sports page before. Well, let's see… If the odds are exactly even, then it means that a good or bad outcome is equally likely. So, it would be logical to infer, assuming the premise, that there is some coming event which will bring either very good or very bad fortune… or perhaps some of both."

_All right,_ Pat thought, leaning in for a closer look,_ but_ _how do we know if it will be good? How do I __**make**__ it good?_

"To the second question, I should think you can't," Phil said. "To the first, it might be possible to predict the consequences of one event from the known outcome of another. In this case, if the Eagles win, then it would mean that this second, as-yet unknown event will ultimately prove to be positive, while a loss would mean it will be negative."

_Of course,_ Pat thought with a nod. It all made sense. Something is going to happen to Junior that could help him or hurt him. And if I can make good luck for the Birds, I can make good luck for him…

Just then, Jeanie burst in without knocking. "Junior's home, and he has great news! Ronnie and Veronica have invited him over for dinner Sunday! Oh, but we're going to have to get him some new clothes, and I guess he won't be here to watch the Eagles game…"

She was startled and a little afraid when her husband turned around and smiled. "Oh, that will be fine," he said. "Tell him to come up here so I can congratulate him. I think I have an idea what he could wear, too…"

**An after note: I wrote a part of this while listening to Passenger's "Feather On the Clyde". For the rest, I laughed. A lot. I think I have a right to.**


	2. Who's Coming to Dinner?

"Thanks for inviting Pat," Veronica said to Ronnie. She had on her best evening dress, which didn't really fit her anymore after the weight she put on having Emily, and it never really suited her because she was a successful professional woman, not a skinny twenty-something cocktail waitress. But Ronnie knew better than to say as much.

He did venture to say, "It wasn't my invitation. You said you wanted Pat to come over for dinner." She began setting the table, and Ronnie resigned himself to helping her, until something jarred him.

"Hey! Hold on!" he said. He pointed to the fourth plate, still in Von's hands. "Don't you remember why Pat's been gone? Don't you still talk to Nikki? The two of them are through. Now put that away, quick, because if Pat sees it, he's going to start thinking Nikki really is coming."

Von calmly set the plate down. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" she said. "I did invite someone else."

"Oh my god," Ronnie said. "You invited her, right? I suppose that's what you wanted all along, right? We have to call this off, Von. We can say Emily got sick, or something."

"Why?" Von said, too sweetly. "Don't you like Tiffany?" They both knew there was no right answer to the question.

"I care about Tiffany, and I sure as hell care about Pat! Do you have any idea what you're doing? Pat can barely deal with what's already happened to him. Do you know he went looking for Nikki the other day? He still wears his ring, too. At least she moved out of town, _thank God_, so we don't have to worry about him really finding her. In what universe is Tiffany good for him? What the fuck is your idea of a good match? Alien and Predator go on a double date with Mothra and Godzilla?"

Von brushed right past him on her way to the kitchen. Without a word, she began pulling food out of the oven. He followed her, placing herself at the entrance to the kitchen. "Von, I swear, I'm not doing this! I'm not having anything to do with this!"

There was a knock at the door. "Would you get that?" Von said. It was not a request.

Jeanie watched Pat, Senior watching the Eagles game in an otherwise darkened room. He was quiet tonight, the way she had always wished he would be. As she watched him stare coldly at the screen as the opposing team made another unanswered touchdown, she knew to be evermore careful what she wished for. Finally she turned away.

"The fuckin Birds are gonna fuckin lose," Patricio said. The Birds were still ahead, and there were only three minutes left in the game, but he knew the signs. "They are gonna fuckin _choke_. Fuckin Birds and their fuckin chokes. Put 'em behind, and they can work fuckin miracles to get the win or at least make it close. But give 'em a good lead in a fuckin easy game, and it's like they look for ways to fuckin lose. After I did everything to take the jinx off them and Pat, even talking that quack from Bombay into telling him to wear the jersey, they still fuckin lose. The Birds are fuckin losers, and they're gonna make my son a fuckin loser."

"That would seem to be a possibility," said Phil Silvers in his head. "But might I suggest an alternative hypothesis? Granting the premise that good luck is a commodity, it follows logically that, in some cases, one party would only be able to have good luck if another had very bad luck, or else both would have bad luck. Therefore, it seems possible that your efforts to remove the `jinx' from the Eagles failed because the available supply of luck went to Junior instead."

A cry rang out from the television set: "INTERCEPTION!" Patricio nodded, and smiled.

Ronnie and Veronica stared at each other across the place settings of their departed guests. Von looked calm, even a little satisfied. Ronnie looked ready to explode. Finally, he jumped to his feet. "We have to go after them," he said.

Von drained the last of her wine glass. "Why?" she said.

"You know why! You know what she's going to do."

"So?" Von refilled her glass. When he continued to give her the look, she smiled and said, "If it happens, at least Pat will get his head out from under Nikki's skirt."

"Good God, Von!" Ronnie shouted. "At least think about her! You know how much trouble she has as it is. Do you think she can get what she needs from him? And do you know what he did to that guy? He was in a coma! When he came out, he was so scared he took out restraining orders on Pat and Nikki!" He strode to the phone. "At least we're calling Patricio and Jeanie."

Jeanie was almost fearful as she approached her husband. "Pat… Patricio… it's Ronnie on the phone," she said. She wiped a tear from her eye. "He says there was some kind of trouble at dinner… But he won't say what, which makes me afraid… He says we need to make sure Junior comes home tonight."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Dolores," Patricio said. "Everything will be fine." Jeanie withdrew, and he turned off the TV. Then in the quiet dark, he grinned broadly while tears streamed down his cheeks.


	3. All That Is Gone

**This is a longer chapter, and a bit of a "song fic", though I have kept use of lyrics to what I would consider a minimum. Also, I believe this is a good time to point out that I am NOT portraying Pat, Sr. as schizophrenic. There are significant nuances in the diagnosis which are mentioned here.**

Ronnie slammed the door behind him as he stormed into the living room. Veronica looked up as if vaguely curious. "Well, it's done," he said. "I told him about her. Everything."

"Really," Veronica said, "why did you think you needed to do that?"

"He needs to know," Ronnie said. "And you know something? He looked at me like he thought I was the one with the problem. I swear, the way they're spending time together… I'm worried." He hung up his jacket and threw himself on the couch.

Veronica leaned back with a smile. "Did you know, he's calling her his girlfriend now?" she said. "Tiffany called and told me about it today. He told her, she could be his girlfriend, as long as it's apart time. He says, by being friends with a woman, and treating her like she's his girlfriend, he can show Nikki and everyone that he's better. Then Nikki will end apart time, and Pat will probably get back together with her, so Tiffany won't be able to be his girlfriend anymore, but they can still be friends. You might try telling him that he could be a better friend if he didn't keep talking about another woman with her."

Ronnie gave a grim laugh. "He said `probably'? He _really _said `probably'? I suppose he did it to b kind to Tiffany, but still… You know, he really isn't saying as much about getting back together with Nikki. Like, he talks a lot about how he saved her from the guy he beat up. He's sorry for hurting him, but he says the way he just dumped Nikki proves he was only taking advantage of her, and she would have been worse off if she had gotten more involved with him than she is by herself. I'd have to say, he's probably right."

He sighed. "Then what he really fixates on is this idea that as soon as Nikki lifts the restraining order, they will meet each other again, and talk things out. The damnedest thing is, he really doesn't say much about what he _wants_ to happen after that. Of course, he will talk about it like getting back together is a matter of course, but sometimes he says he _could_ let her go. I could call it an improvement, except that he can't get past this obsession with meeting face to face, which is what worries me."

"That's because a little crazy is more dangerous than a lot of crazy," Von said. "When people are completely out of it, like a `classic' schizophrenic, the odds are against them doing anything wrong without getting caught quickly. But the ones who have enough rationality to form a good plan can do a lot more damage, if they try. They lose the insanity pleas, too, because in the eyes of the courts, most anyone with the smarts to count his bullets is smart enough to know he's doing something illegal."

After some time in silence, she added, "She was going to tell him, you know. We've been talking about what to say. She probably still will, if he doesn't let her know what you told him. I think he will let her… maybe ask her a few questions…"

Ronnie got to his feet and went to the armchair. He started to sit down, but then got up and went to the ipod dock. At the push of a few buttons, a track from a Passenger album started. It was in a fast tempo with a rapping style, and seemed cheerful up to the jarring chorus:

"If you can't be what you want, you learn to be the things you're not… If you can't get what you need, you learn to need the things that stop you dreaming…"

Von sat up a little straighter, beginning to listen, and Ronnie set his magazine in his lap and stared at the ceiling. The song ended, and as the album continued, they finally looked at each other.

"What happened to us?" Ronnie said, not really as a question.

"Nothing, really," Von said. "Just life, I suppose."

"No," Ronnie said. "Not just life, _this_ life. I would have been happy without it, you know. But every time we had something good, you told me you wanted something more. When we had the apartment, you wanted a house. When we got the house, you wanted a bigger house. When we got this house, you wanted a baby."

Her sad gaze hardened into a stare. "Come on! You know I love Em, you know I wanted her as much as you, and I would have even if we didn't have all of this. But that's my point! You didn't just want the family, you wanted the whole package. You know, the first time I really felt like I made you happy was when we brought Em home to this place, and you started setting everything up like Helen Homemaker. And that was the first time you made me wonder, if you wanted this more than you wanted me."

"Come here," Von said. "Please." He returned to the couch, and they kissed. Soon they were stretched out, both knowing where they were headed but taking their time. "Ronnie… If this was all I wanted, I could have got it for myself. You know I'm right. I could have gone it alone, snagged every promotion that came along. Hm, I probably could have made more money than you ever will. Then I could have bought the big house, mm, and the best baby juice on the open market… But I didn't, because I loved you, and I wanted the best for you as much as for me."

They were on the couch for a long time, but it didn't seem to take long before they were listening to "Feather on the Clyde". Von stirred from her repose in Ronnie's arms at the chorus: "Well I would swim but the river is so wide I'm afraid I won't make it to the other side… I long for something that's safe and warm but all I have is all that is gone…"

"That's Tiffany," she said. "Pat too, I guess."

"Both Pats, I think," Ronnie said with a nod. He thought, and knew she knew he was thinking, what he would never say aloud: When she said she loved him, she had used the past tense.

Patricio found the tape at the bottom of a box. He had hidden it carefully from Junior, and even Jeanie thought he had destroyed it. She had never been anything but mortified by Junior's wedding video. Even now, she would remind him how, at his own son's wedding, he had hardly done anything but sit quietly and cry, and not the happy tears that it was supposed to be okay for guys to cry now. All because, she always said, the fuckin Birds had fuckin choked against the fuckin Arizona Cardinals.

She would never understand.

He shed tears again as he watched the muted tape. He had seen the signs then, and he could see them even more clearly now. They had been everywhere, like fuckin ants on a sugar lump, so clear he couldn't believe how everyone could keep fuckin smiling. It was like nobody even wanted to see, but he did, and he knew what they meant: Junior's marriage was going to end, and it was going to end in pain for him. And Patricio knew why.

One day, that one day, he had stopped doing what it took to fight the jinx. Why not? It was two fuckin days from Junior's wedding day! It was the fuckin _Cardinals_, for fuck's sake! So, he had let it slide. He had_ let_ the jinx in, and the jinx hadn't just cost the Birds the game, _against the __**fuckin **__**Cardinals**_**,** it had cost Junior his marriage.

He jerked the tape out even before it was finished ejecting. He had done this to himself often enough. It was time to move on.

It was time to make sure the signs were right for Pat to love Tiffany


	4. Bad Signs

**Here's the next installment, with Randy in the mix. I liked the idea of having Patricio and Randy bouncing off each other to introduce a philosophical element in a storyline, and I plan on getting at least one more scene out of it. Also, for the record, I initially gave this story "M" just for Pat, Sr's language, and he's a little fouller in this chapter.**

"So I tell Junior, why are you still talkin bout fuckin Nikki. Tell me bout this Tiffany broad," Patricio said. He opened a beer, and offered another to Randall Feinberg. He rearranged the remotes, very carefully. "You know, they performed in a dance recital together. That's how I first met her. I went with Jeanie, and it wasn't bad. I mean, it's still fuckin dance, but she can move. I tell you, the whole time, I kept thinking, if only she played fuckin basketball. Now she's talkin' bout going to a semipro competition, and she's got Pat practicing like a demon. You know, I had to talk him into skipping one afternoon to go to the Eagles game. I don't know what he thinks is up, but I know the signs. It's true love, Randy, it's meant to be, same as the Eagles are meant to kick fuckin Giants ass."

He gave the remote another nudge. Suddenly, Randall spoke: "`Knowing this first, that no prophecy of the Scripture is of any private interpretation. For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man, but the holy men spoke as they were moved.'"

Patricio looked askance at his friend. "What are you fuckin doin spouting St. Peter at me outta nowhere? You hardly even believe in your half of the Bible."

Randy pointed to the remotes. "You know what I'm saying, Pat. If something's really in the signs, it's because it's meant to be by the will of God. Do you think you're better than God?"

"Jesus fuckin Christ, you're makin it sound like voodoo or something," Patricio said. "This isn't about tellin God what to do. It's showin we can read the signs. Then things will go right, for the Birds and everybody else. And you're a fine one to talk, when you're doing the Kabbalah crap…"

"Kabbalah is about finding insights that are already there in the Torah," Randy said. "It's not meant for foretelling the future: It could, but if you go to it looking for nothing but an answer to a question you already have in mind, you've blinded yourself to most of its potential. Then there's this. Seriously, Pat, you are fuckin insane. Just think about the big picture why don't you? There's millions of Eagles fans, hard as that is to believe, and I'm sure at least half of them are just like you, looking for signs and doing whatever rituals they think will bring the Birds good luck. So what's the fuckin big deal about you? Why are the fuckin crazy things you do more important than their fuckin crazy?"

_"You don't understand, you fuckin Texas kike!"_ Patricio shouted. He took deep breaths to calm himself. "I'm sorry for that, Randy. But you really don't understand. Look, with what you were saying about Kabbalah, I get that, I can respect that. There are signs everywhere, and that's because everything's knitted together, like one big beautiful tapestry. But it's not just about seeing the signs. It's about lining yourself up with the signs. It's showing you have faith that there is a big plan. Because if you don't follow the signs, if you don't have the faith, you're pitting yourself against God, and you pay. That's when the signs go wrong, and the tapestry comes unraveled. It all fuckin falls apart."

"Holy sheeiit," said Randy, "you're still worked up about that Cardinals game!"

"Tell me I'm fuckin wrong!" Patricio said. "The fuckin Birds blow a fuckin fourteen-point lead against the fuckin Cardinals, how the fuck does that happen?! And what else happens? Not a week later, Junior gets married to his college sweetheart, and within five years, he goes to the loony bin because of her! Tell me that's a fuckin coincidence, Randall! Tell me I'm fuckin wrong!"

He took a deep breath, and then he smiled. The signs were good. Junior and Jake were at the game. He was in his lucky sweater, in his lucky chair, with all the lucky charms in their right places. And to top it all off, Junior had one lucky girl waiting for him when he got back. Yes, all was good. He picked up the remote for the new sound system and pushed the button to turn up the volume. He frowned. "Dolores!" he shouted. "Did you forget to change the fuckin batteries?!"

Veronica was giving Emily a bath in the sink when the phone rang. "Oh, that's Daddy," she said after a glance at the caller ID. "Want to say hi to Daddy, Em? Maybe you can talk to Uncle Pat, too."

"Pap!" Em said, and gave a crow of laughter. Von giggled herself as she raised the phone to her ear.

"Hi, hon, Em and I were just talking about you…" The smile immediately left her face. "You're where?... _What did Pat do?!"_


	5. Story Time

**This scene is in police procedural territory. It should be clear that I have been intentionally deviating from the movie storyline, mainly with an eye to harmonizing with the novel, and this chapter represents a decision that was especially challenging. My approach was to stick pretty much with events from the movie (including a deleted scene) but develop a "twist" on details and interpretation.**

"Thank you for coming by the station, Mrs. Jackson," Officer Keogh said. "We're already processing paperwork to release your husband and his friends, and we don't anticipate filing any charges. However, we have to ask some routine questions, especially about one of them, Pat Peoples Jr. I was wondering, would you mind telling me a little about him?"

Keogh led Von to his office, but she knew an interrogation when she saw it. "Thank you for agreeing to talk," he said as he closed the door. "Again, understand that we have no plans to file charges against your husband or his friend, we're just trying to get a better understanding of what happened."

"That's great," Von said. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Well, our investigation is ongoing, so I can't be too free with details," Keogh said. "I can tell you that there was a physical altercation between your husband, Mr. Peoples and his brother Jake, and Dr. Cliff Patel, Pat's therapist, and members of a group calling themselves `Native Sons'. Off the record, there is also an unidentified woman with strawberry blonde hair we consider her a person of interest."

Von kept a perfect poker face. "By all accounts including their own, the Native Sons are an Eagles fan club who also share certain political beliefs," Keogh continued. "In fact, your husband characterizes them as `racist assholes'. He says, and many witnesses confirm, that these men had a previous dispute with Mr. Peoples, among others, over the use of parking lot space by another club known as the Asian Invasion. He claims that certain members of the Native Sons threatened certain members of Asian Invasion, as well as himself and Mr. Peoples, and began vandalizing the Asian Invasion's personal effects. He claims that he and Jake Peoples tried to assist Dr. Patel, Patel and Jake were injured, and at that point Pat entered the fight, which had already escalated into a general disturbance."

"Sounds like racist assholes being racist assholes," Von said. "What do they have to say?"

"For the most part, they aren't saying anything, which frankly is the main reason no charges are being considered against your husband and his associates," Officer Keogh said. "Off the record, we have enough to prove that the leader of the club told his people not to talk, or- very specifically- press charges. We could charge him with obstruction if we wanted to, but we have absolute proof that he was not involved in the fight itself, and it would seem that he believes they have their own grievances."

"I see," Von said. "Was there anyone who did make a statement?"

"One did," Keogh said. "We're fairly certain that he traded blows with Pat, and probably hit Jake. He refused to say anything about the fight itself, but he was quite insistent that he had witnessed what he believed to be a crime before the fight. He also clearly wanted us to believe, without putting it in so many words, that this act, rather than the prior dispute between the Native Sons and the Asian Invasion, was the cause of the altercation."

"Really," Von said. "What did he say he saw? Off the record."

"He said he saw an individual, whom he quite confidently identified as Pat Peoples, run up to a woman with, quote, `strawberry blonde' hair," Keogh said, glancing very briefly at a file. "He was clearly excited, and this woman and her companions were clearly very upset. In fact, the witness says the woman turned to run, before she was restrained by a female companion, and he very clearly heard the man say, `I'm calling the police'. He also says that Mr. Peoples kept saying, `I read your letter!'

"Then two other men arrived, matching the description of Jake Peoples and your husband, and restrained Pat. A third man, described as quote, `an old Indian guy, like a doctor or something', arrived and spoke to the woman's companions, and appeared to convince the man to put away his cell phone. He says that the woman and her companions promptly left, without entering the stadium, and Pat Peoples and his companions retreated to the Asian Invasion tent. Reading between the lines, the witness and others from the Native Sons followed them, either out of genuine concern or because of their grudge against the Asian Invasion, and things escalated from there."

"That's quite a story," Von said. "I suppose this woman is your person of interest. Any proof she exists?"

"Two other witnesses confirm some details of the story," Officer Keogh said. "Then, of course, there's the matter of Mr. People's history. As I'm sure you know, he and his wife are in the process of a divorce, and he's under a restraining order prohibiting him from making contact with her. Actually, the order applies equally to Nikki, but she moved out of our jurisdiction. I'm responsible for keeping tabs on Pat, and off the record, a lot of people are very concerned."

"Has he tried to contact Nikki?" Veronica asked.

"Yes, but not lately, and I'm sure I would know," Keogh admitted.

"Then you know he's dating Tiffany now," Von said. "She tells me about you."

"Yes, I know about the situation with Tiffany," Keogh said, very uncomfortably. "Whatever that situation is. Here's the problem, Mrs. Jackson. It's hard enough to enforce a restraining order against one person. A mutual restraining order is extra trouble, especially since we have to sort out who to charge for a violation. But where things get really tricky is third-party interference. When two people have had a close relationship with each other, there's always going to be other people that have relationships with both of them. There's nothing easier to do or harder for us to prove than trying to get around an order by enlisting help from one of those people. If it comes to that, even the laws are a bit hazy, especially on whether we can prosecute the third party."

Officer Keogh folded his hands on the table. "In Pat's case, there have been very specific concerns raised that he might attempt, or already have attempted, to circumvent the order with someone else's help. These include concerns about your family. You yourself are still in contact with Nikki, your husband is one of his closest friends, and now your sister is his girlfriend. It would all seem to be a perfect storm of potential circumvention."

"Do I need a lawyer for this conversation?" Von mused.

"I'm not asking you anything," Keogh said. "I just want you to know, people are asking questions. And strictly off the record, the questions aren't just about Pat. The more we've looked at this, the more Nikki seems like an unknown quantity, and maybe a missing piece. Like I mentioned, the restraining order applies to her as well was to him. She lives across a state line, so we can't keep an eye on her. On top of that, her other `ex' took a restraining order against her, specifically citing persistent communications asking him to support dropping charges against Pat.

"Nobody wants to have to re-incarcerate Pat, Mrs. Jackson. We don't want to press charges against someone just for trying to help patch things up between two friends. We don't even need to know what's really been going on. We just want to see things fixed up before we have to do something."

Von nodded, and walked out. Ronnie was waiting for her, with a look on his face like a sad puppy. "Pat and Jake are waiting outside," he said. She stifled him with a passionate kiss and a tight embrace, observing with satisfaction the surprised and approving glances of various passers-by.

"You're a good man and a good friend," she said. Then she whispered, "Now if you want to be a friend… _get my sister away from Pat."_


	6. Intervention

**This chapter is ramping things up, especially for Von. To me, the role she's falling into here is what makes sense of her character, both per the book and the movie. Writing a "tough" female character isn't going out on a limb for me (in the kind of stories I usually write, there really isn't room for any other kind), but Von's on a different level than any of them unless it is (pardon the plug) Cass from my Terminator fan novel "The Rookie". I actually got a fair amount of sympathetic reader feedback about "her", and I am aiming for some of the same qualities in Von.**

"I'm going to kill her!" Jake declared. "I knew something was up with Tiffany yesterday, as soon as she proposed the second bet! Seriously, I'm going to her house right now, and I'm going to tell her, if she goes near Pat, I'm going to kill her!" He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Pat, Senior sighed and bowed his head. "Patricio," Jeanie said earnestly, "Patricio, we have to do something! Say something!"

He opened his eyes again, and met Veronica's expectant gaze. "You've got no proof," he said. "You don't have one of these letters, you haven't seen any of these letters. No fuckin proof."

"Look at the circumstantial details, Mr. Peoples," Veronica said. "Think about how Pat kept asking people for help getting a letter to Nikki- until he started spending time with Tiffany. Think about the envelope that Pat took from your study, and how Pat refused to give an answer when Jeanette asked him what he did with it. Think about what Tiffany said about Pat agreeing to dance with her in exchange for her help. Think about how she basically manipulated you into accepting a bet that would require Pat to go through with the contest! And think about this, even if I am wrong about what's happened, it's clear that we were all wrong about Pat, and Tiffany. His apparent improvements with her have not brought a resolution to his problems, including his manic urge to contact Nikki. At best, he has been able to exercise some control over his impulses. At worst, he has only learned to mask his mental state and real intentions while waiting for a better opportunity to go after what he wants."

"Do you think this would stand up in court?" Patricio countered.

"It wouldn't have to," Von said. "This isn't the 1950's, but it isn't the seventies either. Nobody wants to go back to electroshock and lobotomies, but people starting to ask whether it's really a good idea to let mental patients come and go like the hospitals had revolving doors. In this climate, even a suspicion that Pat had tried to do something inappropriate could be enough to have him returned to institutional care."

"What about Tiffany?" Patricio said with a wave of his hand. "She's your _family_..."

Von went silent, though her nostrils flared and her face began to flush. Ronnie spoke: "There was a mental competency hearing for Tiffany, around the time she lost her job. The records are sealed, but her case can be reviewed, and if any proceedings occur over her interactions with Pat, it will be."

Patricio came to his feet. "Don't hide behind your man, or your mumbo jumbo!" he shouted directly at Von. "I may not be a fuckin paralegal, but I know how those fuckin things work. Somebody had to ask a judge to lock her up. Only judges don't take requests from just anybody. Do they? No, the only people they usually listen to are the family. What the fuck did you do? Testify against your own sister? Or were you the one who got it going in the first place?" His voice rose as he closed with her, until he saw something in her eyes behind her poker face. Then he murmured, almost in awe, "Jesus fuckin Christ... whathefuck did _she _do?"

"We try to help Tiffany keep out of trouble, the same way you do with Pat," Von said. Her voice was cold and forceful, though a tear ran  
down her cheek. "I don't think anyone could imagine how bad she was then- except the people who've seen Pat. We hated what we did, but it was the only way to make her try to get her shit together. I was happy, I was _proud_ of her when she beat everything. After seeing what she was able to do for herself, I really thought she would be good for Pat. I hoped the two of them could help each other. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I apologize, to you and Jeanette, and Ronnie, and I would apologize to the two of them, too. But I can't allow the current situation to continue, Mr. Peoples. My sister has enough trouble as it is. "

"Jeanie...?" Patricio looked to his wife. She shook her head and covered her eyes.

"We already talked to her," Ronnie said. "She agrees that it would be best for Pat and Tiffany to withdraw from the competition, and have no contact with each other for at least six months. If they will not agree to these terms, we are fully prepared to apply for a restraining order forbidding any further contact between her and Pat, and both their cases will be reviewed in court. She also made contact with Randall. He has agreed to nullify the parlay, in exchange for payment for your original bet. I am prepared to pay him, and provide you with as much money as you would win from the bet."

"Fuck off, I never asked for no fuckin charity," Patricio snapped. "And what you're talkin' about would destroy Junior and Tiffany. Some people are better off apart, but a fuckin court order is no way to make it happen. That's why Junior's been so messed up over Nikki: He got so upset when they told him he couldn't even talk to her, he stopped thinking about what was wrong between them in the first place. I say, if you have two people with enough of their marbles to sit down and hear each other out, then let them do it, and they can figure out what's best. Anything else, and you're messing with the signs. You're fighting what's meant to be, and you can tell that to Randy."

Ronnie turned a sad gaze to Veronica, and was unnerved to see her smiling. "You have a point, Mr. Peoples," she said. "It does seem possible that the restraining order are doing more harm than good. Pat clearly interprets the terms of the order, particularly the mutual nature, as a sign that Nikki is herself being forced away from him. The order also presents significant complications in settling their divorce proceedings, and of course, it is the principle reason the police are suspicious about Pat.

"So perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone here: Pat and Tiffany can be allowed to participate in the competition, and you can honor the terms of your parlay if you insist. To ensure that Pat is motivated, tell him Nikki might be there." Patricio and Jeanie looked at each other. "Then I will ask Nikki if she will agree to a supervised meeting with Pat, after the dance. If she agrees, arrangements can be made to relax the terms of the restraining order. Then, if the cops and the courts give the matter any further attention, they will infer that both of them already wanted to arrange a meeting, and look the other way accordingly."

"What are you doing?" Ronnie said as they walked to the car. "What are you really doing?"

"It's like what you told me Pat says," Von said with a too-sweet smile. "Nobody should give up on a marriage. You agree, don't you?"

"Honey... Of course I want to give Pat the chance to talk to Nikki about reconciling," Ronnie said. "But we both know what the chances really are, even if she wanted it as much as he did. What happened already happened, and there were reasons it happened. The best thing for the two of them is and always was to make peace and move on."

"That's what I thought myself," Von said. "But now, I have to disagree. I've talked to Nikki, and I know she's ready to give him another try if he asks. Besides, it's never too late to save a marriage... Right?"


	7. Angel in the Attic

Patricio huddled in the attic, watching Junior's wedding video on a little TV-VCR combination he didn't bother to mute. "Talk to me, Phil," he said. "The signs went wrong... and it's my fuckin fault. I thought sending Junior to the game would get the jinx off the fuckin Birds. So I told him, skip your practice with Tiffany, you already did plenty. I even said I thought maybe she was putting a jinx on the Birds. I broke 'em apart, same as I fucked up his marriage, and now everything's broken! The Birds are losers, my son's a fuckin loser, and I made em fuckin lose! Help me, Phil, you gotta fuckin help me!"

Suddenly he heard Jeanie's voice: "Phil isn't here. Phil isn't real." Patricio looked up, and saw the Angel.

The light from the Angel did not illuminate the surrounding attic. Instead, it burned pure white, straight into the back of Patricio's eyeballs, even when he covered his eyes in a vain effort to block it out. "Fear not," said the Angel. It was Jeanie's voice, Jeanie as she had sounded when she had told him she would accompany him to the sockhop at age fourteen, and at the same time as she had sounded at twenty when she said yes, she would marry him; when she said he was going to be a father; when she said Junior was getting married; when she said Junior was coming home. It was the transmutation of the sum of every good and beautiful thing he had ever known, which was why it sounded like Jeanie. As Patricio looked upon the Angel, he dropped straight to the attic floor.

Weak and terrified as an infant, he raised his head to look upon the Angel. He knew it for the Seraphim of the vision of Isaiah, but obviously the prophet had been unequipped to do justice to it. There were six wings upon the Angel. Two beat the air, two shrouded the body, and two, little more than canards, covered the head like a hood. But the wings were not like any bird's, without feathers, joints or even rigidity, but as flexible and ethereal as silk. The only thing like them he had beheld on a living thing had belonged to creature called a sea butterfly, a _snail_ of all things, that he had once seen on a fishing trip with his old man. The outer wings of the Angel undulated as furiously yet rhythmically as the mantle of that shelless swimming mollusc had when it swam right out of a cupful of plankton, yet the Angel stood perfectly in place, just as if the purpose of its mighty efforts was to remain before the eyes of a mortal creature spinning on a mote of cosmic dust that spun round one ball of gas on the edge of a swirling galaxy hurtling through ever-expanding space.

"I'm sorry, God," Patricio said. "I didn't understand the signs. No, I confess, I did something worse. I was proud. I thought I could change the signs. Please, don't punish Junior, or Tiffany. And whatever you do to me, _please tell your Angel not to open those other wings_."

"Fear not," said the Angel.

"But I am afraid," Pat said. "I can't see the signs!"

"Fear not!" said the Angel, and it was like Jeanie telling Junior not to worry about the monsters under the bed.

"But what's the sign?" he cried out.

"_Fear not!" _

And then Patricio was alone.

**An after note: The Angel here is based on a very old concept that previously surfaced in one of my fantasy/SF stories. A sketch of it is posted on my "exotroopers" blog.**


	8. Discovery

Veronica and Ronnie sat at the dining room table in their bathrobes. "We gave each other a week," Von said. "What do we have to show for it?"

"Pat bought a ring today," Ronnie said. Von tilted her head in interest. "He went off and did it himself when we were out, but he didn't hide it. He said he had some money that he'd kept with his personal effects, and he wanted to buy a gift for Jeanette. Then he showed it to me. It is just an opal."

"You fuckin idiot," Von said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Opals are _big _nowadays. It's _`the unique engagement ring'_. And not having to buy from either warlords or a South African cartel probably makes a good selling point. Then there's another fun fact, it's the October birthstone. Who do we know born in Octiober?"

"Nikki..." Ronnie put his face in his hands. "That's circumstantial, though. Three out of the five years they were married, Pat forgot her birthday. Besides which, it's not really Nikki's kind of ring. It's called a black opal, mostly deep blue, but there's this red center that really looks like fire. The first thing I thought, and I know you're thinking it too: `This is for Tiffany... '" There was a pause. "You don't think...?"

"What do you think?" Von said. "So I suppose that's it for the Pat front."

She gave him a silent look, and he sighed. "I talked to him about the game. He gave me this." He pushed a letter into her hands.

"Dear Pat," Von read, "`I appreciate Tiffany acting as my liaison... Please remember she is taking significant risks, as am I... I respect your desire to pursue reconciliation, and especially your willingness to accept it as a possibility to explore rather than a foregone conclusion. I would be happy to come to your dance competition, though I can make no promises, and even if I come, you should not expect to see me. I believe that watching how you and Tiffany perform together could tell me much that I want to know in deciding our future, but I do not wish to be a distraction to you or to Tiffany…'"

Von laughed. "`I can tell that Tiffany cares for you deeply, and would like to be far more than the good friend she is to you… I admire your desire to sustain a friendship with her, even if we reconcile. But I must say up front, I could not accept such an arrangement if we renewed our vows, nor would I accept it in her place. We have both been too close to you, even intimate, to share you. At some point, you are going to have to choose one of us and let the other go free.' Yeah, that's our drama queen. Oh, here's the kicker: `If we are unable to meet at the dance, please come to the park where you proposed. I promise that I will give you my answers there, if not in person then through our liaison.'"

Von smiled. "Much better. You should lead with your strongest exhibit, Ronnie. Here's what I got." She pushed a dozen photocopied pages across the table. It was hand-written notes, riddled with corrections, annotations, insertions and wholesale crossing-out. Ronnie's drowsy eyes widened. "I went in my parents' annex while Tiff was with Jeanette. I was awarded a key by the court, if you remember. I had to do a lot of looking, and Tiffany's going to know I was there. But I found the originals for these. My guess is it's a draft of a letter she plans to deliver at the park."

"It's all here," Ronnie said. "This is her full confession. She admits making the offer to be his liaison with no intention of contacting Nikki, reading the full contents of his letters to her, and forging letters in Nikki's name. She even quotes samples of letters to prove it."

"It gets better," Von said, taking the other pages back. "She goes on to say that she wanted a physical relationship with him as soon as they met, and that it was her intention to `do it with the lights out so I could pretend you were Tommy'. Mm, she says quite a bit more, you don't need to see that. Then she finishes by saying that, by getting to know him as a friend, she has been able to develop a much deeper appreciation for him. She says she is in love with him, and begs him to try to love her instead of continuing to endanger his freedom with his impossible quest to reunite with Nikki."

"You know what he told me when I convinced him to show me the letter?" Ronnie said. "He said he wrote it and all the others himself, without even talking to Tiffany. He said, I quote, `I just forgot it wasn't real.' He's ready to say he had a delusional episode. He'll be sent back, and he knows it, and he'll do it, just to make sure Tiffany and Nikki don't get in trouble."

He sighed. "We have to destroy these," he said. "If anyone sees this, Pat's going away, and the only way Tiffany doesn't go to jail is if she loses another competency hearing. And that would be the real crime, because all that this really proves is that they actually found a way to work through their troubles. I am destroying these, right now." He walked briskly to the office, and the shredder buzzed. Nikki smiled. "I'm erasing them from the computer, too!" She glanced to her purse, where she kept a tablet computer and really did like to think her husband's manhood was stowed for safekeeping.

She got up and met him with a kiss as he emerged from the office. "There's one more thing I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "I know what you're doing in the garage. I want you to know, if that's anything like a fetish you have going... I can keep an open mind."

He pushed her to arm's length. "What are you going to do?" he said, knowing the answer.

"We are going to do what has to be done," Von said. She took him by the hand, and lead him toward the bedroom. "We still don't really understand what's going on with Pat, but I know Tiffany. She's controlling your friend with a fantasy, and it has to stop. If we give him something real, it short circuits, and she learns a lesson."

Ronnie halted in his tracks at the bedroom door. "Von," he said, "we need to talk. People can be wrong, Veronica. Tiffany was wrong. She admitted it in that letter. She was wrong about what Pat wanted, she was wrong about what kind of guy he was, and in the end, she was wrong about what she really wanted. We could be wrong about them, too! I still don't think the two of them together is a good idea, but I'm giving it an open mind, and you should too!"

She gave him a gaze that was utterly cold. "But that's what this is really about, isn't it? I told you I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I let us get to a place where you thought you had to worry! But nothing happened. Nothing was ever going to happen!"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," Von said. Then she shed her robe, and there was no more talking after that.


	9. Synchronicity

**This represents my first idea for a scene between Patricio and Randy, and I considered using it as the basis for a "one shot". The concept is real, and I have encountered it in several SF/ fantasy stories.**

Patricio was unusually reserved as they watched the Bengals game. Randall eyed the crooked remotes. "What, no juju?" he said.

"Fuck the juju," said Patricio. "Maybe God just wants to watch the fuckin game."

Randall nodded. After a while, the Eagles scored, drawing into the lead by four points. "The odds on this game are close," he said. "Everybody still calls Cincy the Bungles, but this season they've fielded their best team in a decade. And after the loss to the Giants last week, the Birds need this game if they're going to stay in the running for the playoffs."

"We'll see," said Patricio.

At the half, both teams had scored again, but the Bungles had earned an extra point to narrow the lead to three. "You know, Patricio, there's something I've been thinking about with the signs... Have you ever heard of the term `synchronicity'?"

"Nope," Patricio said. "Sounds like engineering crap."

"Actually, it's a concept of metaphysics, proposed by the psychiatrist Carl Jung," Randy said. "He called it `an acausal theory of relationships'. The general observation is that sometimes, two things happen that are so similar and close together that it seems like they should be related, even if there's no apparent way that they could be. If you go by cause and effect, then you have to look for some hidden connection, like a third event that could effect them both, or discount it as coincidence. Jung figured, maybe there was a third possibility. Maybe there's a force or principle in the universe that guides seperate events to similar outcomes at about the same time. That's what he called synchronicity.

"Take that Cardinals game. At the end of the day, the reason the Birds choked- I mean the regular, cause and effect reason- was that they just got cocky. They figured, it was the fuckin Cards, what could go wrong. And you let the juju go because you were cocky, too. That's not cause and effect, and it's not coincidence, it's synchronicity. And maybe it happened with Junior, too. He went into a marriage without really being prepared for what it would take to make it work, and he tried to keep it going by coasting along instead of making the effort. He was just plain fuckin cocky, just like you and the fuckin Birds were about the Cards. Synchronicity."

Patricio nodded, pursing his lips in thought. After a while, he straightened the remotes. "Patricio," Randy said, "do we need to talk about next Sunday? Because I've been hearing some talk. There's talk Junior and that girl might be breaking up. There's even talk Junior's wife might be coming back in the picture. Then there's some crazy talk that the police are looking at the girl for something. It seems to me, maybe it's better if they do back out."

"Don't worry 'bout none o' that," Pat said, "everything's going to be fine." He thought to himself, _synchronicity_.

The Eagles won by 14 points.


	10. Reunion

**I now have a complete draft of this story. After writing this scene, I settled on the ending.**

"Welcome home, Ronnie," Von said as her husband entered. She was setting the table. There were three places.

"What's this?" Ronnie said. "Who's coming?" Von was silent. Then the knock came at the door, and Ronnie answered it in resignation. "Hello, Nikki."

"I'm glad you came," Veronica said, "and I hope you will be comfortable if we talk about Pat."

"I just want to make sure he's okay," Nikki said. "People are asking me questions…"

"He's better than okay," Ronnie said. "I hardly recognized him when I saw him. He has a better attitude too. He's really into self-help, and he's living it out. He made his motto, `Excelsior'..."

"`Ever upward," Nikki said with a nod. "I heard he's seeing Tiffany."

"They're dance partners," Von said. "They spend a lot of time together, but they're just friends. He says it's good practice. Actually, they're going to be in a big recital this Sunday, and his family would like to extend you an invitation."

"There's a restraining order," Nikki said. "They were the ones who made it apply to me."

"Yes, but they've realized that was a mistake," Von said. "Patricio says, it's better if you can meet together and work things out."

"Work things out...?"

Von met her husband's eyes, and he knew his cue. "He's still crazy about you!" he blurted out. He lowered his eyes from Von's frown. "No, I don't mean- well, you know what I mean! He still loves you, he isn't mad at you, and he understands that there were a lot of problems in your marriage that he caused. He wants a chance to do better."

Nikki looked to Von. "He is better," she said. "To be honest, he's improved so much, I had a hard time believing that going back to you would be an improvement. But then I got to understand that you're the reason he's done so well. Everything he's done has been to win you back."

"They said he tried to write letters to me," Nikki said. "There was the football game…"

"That was a misunderstanding," Von said. "As far as Pat's concerned, it never happened. Actually, we're just finding out that there were problems with his medications. Apparently, two of them don't always go together, and one of the problems is that people mix up what's present and what's past. He remembered the letters you used to send each other in college, and he thought you were trying to write to him now. They changed the meds, and he's better. "

"I see," Nikki said. "Then how does being with me help him?"

"You're part of his past," Ronnie said. "You can remind him what happened when, and what didn't."

"Right!" said Von. "And another thing is, you're so calm, and stable. You're good at listening, and you don't start arguments. Oh, and you wouldn't believe how good he looks… Tell her, Ronnie…"

Ronnie nodded and opened his mouth, mustering the prepared bill of goods in his mind... but he literally couldn't talk. "Look, Nikki, I think you and Pat had a good thing together," he said. "I think you could have it again, better than before. And you _should_ meet together, at least once. But I don't think you should come to the dance competition. _Please_ don't. It's not that Pat isn't ready for it... I don't think you are."

Von and Nikki embraced each other at the door. "Thank you for coming, and thank you for agreeing to come to the competition," Von said. "And remember, whatever happens, you'll always be the one who introduced me to my Ronnie."

"Actually," Nikki said, "you introduced me to Pat, too."

"Was it? I forget."

"Yeah, it was one of our double dates! Pat was your date, and Elizabeth set me up with Ronnie, which I found out later was because Pat asked her to find him a date, and somewhere along the way we switched off."

"You're right, I do kinda remember that," Von said.

"Actually," Nikki said, a little more boldly, "I felt bad, because Elizabeth told me Pat was your steady boyfriend."

"Did she? I don't know where she would have gotten that idea." Von embraced her old roommate again, and smiled like a shark. "Well, I will see you Sunday!"


	11. Broken Angel

It was in Pat's dreams that he saw the Angel. He was on his old man's boat, watching his old man sleep, when something lit up the twilight sky bright as day. The Angel's form was like the first, but he was sure it was not the same one that usually visited him. The light that came from it was different, not pure and scalding white, but actinic blue around the mantle wings and scintillating red-gold in the shrouded face and body. It dropped from the heavens like a meteor, with its outer wings half-furled like a diving eagle, and its second pair drawn tightly over its already shrouded face. It seemed that one wing was lame, and it was obvious that it was going to crash. But the Angel banked and bore up within a foot of the water's surface, and it shot upward before descending again, to hover almost within arm's length of the boat. His old man kept sleeping.

"Who are you?" Patricio said, leaning forward over the edge of the boat.

"You may call me Excelsior, because I will always rise, even when I fall," said the Angel, and its voice was Tiffany's. "I'm the one looking out for your fucked-up son while he learns to fuckin take care of himself."

"Holy shit, you just said the f-word," Patricio said. "Angels aren't allowed to drop the f-bomb. Are they?"

"I'm a fuckin angel," said Excelsior. "We can break the rules, if it's for His mission. And I handle special assignments, so I have more leeway than most. That's why I'm talking to you."

"Yes, thank you!" Patricio shouted. "I believe! Just give me the sign!"

Excelsior drew back, and Patricio ran after it. He promptly discovered that one couldn't count on walking on water, even in dreams. The water came up to Patricio's chin, though he knew it was barely four feet deep. "Come on, if you're on a mission from God, tell me the sign!"

The Angel leaned down, and Patricio averted his eyes from the blinding brilliance that came through the veil of the mantle. "The only sign we will give you is, _fear not,_" said Excelsior "Have no fuckin fear. No more fuckin guilt, either. And stop asking for fuckin signs, and start reading the ones that are fuckin in front of you. The sign is, fear not. "

"I understand," Patricio said. "It's Tiffany. She_ is _the sign. And the sign means, whether the Birds win or lose, whether Junior wins or loses, even whether he wins or loses_ her_, he can get through it, because he has you watching out for him."

"Fuckin finally," Excelsior said. Then the Angel shot up to the heavens.

"Glad you could be here, Randy," Patricio said. "I want you to see Junior and his girl win!"

"That's good, because seeing it's the only way I'll believe it," Randall said. "Seems to me you should have scouted this event, Patricio. I don't know dance, but I know talent when I see it. I see lots of it, but I don't see it when I look at Junior, or his broad. And say, where are they?"

"You don't need to see them, you just gotta see the signs," Patricio said. "I thought you'd know by now, Randall, you bet against the signs, you get burned, baby!"

"Patricio... seriously, I can't get you," Randy said. "Usually, when you do these things, you got a reason, even if it's not any kinda reason that would make any kinda sense to anybody else. But this is a whole other kinda crazy. Why do you think the Birds are going to beat my Cowboys? Why do you think your son will score in this dance contest? And why do you think it's going to happen on the same night?"

"It's synchronicity, Randy!" Patricio exclaimed happily. "It's the game, it's the contest, it's the two of them, and you know what? My bet is on them, and even if I lose every dime to you, it will be worth it just to show I believe in Junior, and I believe in her."

Randy carefully appraised Patricio's grin. "Damn it, Patricio," he said, "you almost make me wanna lose. _ Almost_."

"That's readin' the signs, Randy," Patricio said. "It's all there to see... Waita minute. Waita fuckin minute. Whathefuck is this?" Nikki was walking in between Ronnie and Von.

"What's goin on, Patricio?" Randy muttered. "Any new problems?"

"No," Patricio said as he met Von's smug and smiling gaze, "just one fuckin old one."

**This chapter started out as about half of chapter 7. I moved some "set-up" forward to round this out. I expect it will be obvious that the next chapter is going to be Von "vs" Patricio, which I hadn't actually planned on. Once I thought about it, I concluded that the two were perfect to play off each other. Patricio appealed to me from the start as a character that, given a situation, would respond in pretty predictable ways, which is the kind of character I like working with. (I also truly find a schizophrenoid character to be relatable and understandable, which I'm absolutely certain from long experience is just me.) Von is the kind of character I have to envision doing any number of things for any number of reasons, which is what has made this interesting.**


	12. The Contest

"Hey, Patricio!" Ronnie called out. He waved back to his wife and her companion, Junior's wife Nikki. "Look who could make it! It's practically a Christmans miracle!"

"It's a fuckin disaster," Patricio said. "Look, we agreed she could be here, but it was supposed to be low profile. Come in, watch the dancing, have a talk, exchange some papers, no big deal. We didn't say nothin about marching her straight in the front door! And where's she gonna fuckin sit?"

"With us," Von said as she and Nikki caught up. "Front and center... Here, Nik, why don't you go find our seat?"

Patricio shook his head. "What about Tiffany?"

"We'll go talk to her," Von said. She led Ronnie upstairs by the arm.

It was a matter of minutes before Jeanie said, "We can't find Tiffany."

Patricio stalked upstairs. He glimpsed a slamming door at one end of the hall, and Von and Ronnie walking the other way. He tailed the pair, and when Von excused herself to go into an open, empty room, he followed. As soon as he was inside the door, she slammed it behind him. "You looking for me? Then let's talk," she said.

"Junior will find her," Patricio said. "He will leave with her."

"If my sister doesn't break up with your son tonight," Von said, "I'm going to court tomorrow."

"I don't fuckin get you, Von," Patricio said. "You know Pat, and you know Tiffany, and you know Nikki too, and still you move heaven and earth to put a woman who can hardly raise her voice back together with a guy who doesn't know when to shut up. What gives? Whathefuck's your game? What is it between you and Tiffany?"

"You want to know, I'll paint you a picture," Von said. "Picture me, two weeks after I had my baby. I'm disgusting, I'm exhausted, Em's learning to really be fussy. But my wonderful husband has been so helpful and completely understanding, and my baby sister has just offered to help around the house for a little extra money while she's getting back on her feet. So we're all together for brunch in bed, I have Em in my arms for her midday meal, and what do I see? My sweet little sister, looking my wonderful husband over the way she does when she's getting ready to jump on a man like a tiger on a piece of meat. And then I see this look on her face that says, she knows she can take him."

"Holy fuck," Patricio said, "and you set her up with my son?"

Von shrugged. "Bottom line? It's better to throw the tiger your leftovers than let it in your dining room. I knew he would give her a challenge, too. For what it's worth, I thought there was a chance he would get away. Sorry, Mr. Peoples, but you've got your family, and I have to deal with mine. But when she started acting like she cared for him, when she finally got interested in something more than a quick lay _after what she was going to do to me_... that was too much."

"So that's it?" Patricio said. "You're willing to break your sister's heart, and Junior's, _and_ Ronnie's, and drag Nikki into it to boot, all to punish her for something that _didn't _happen?"

"Didn't happen, Mr. Peoples?" Von said. "Nightmares are made of the things that don't happen. It's the things that didn't happen that make you worry what could have happened, and could still happen, and what could be happening. It's what makes me want to brain the father of my baby every time he tells me no, of course not, he would never cheat, so stop asking where he's been..."

"Whathefuck do you expect?" Patricio said. "No man wants to tell his woman he's weak, never mind a woman like you! We have a hard enough time admitting it to ourselves. And you should know, as a lawyer and somebody who's been in-laws with a cop, that _nobody_ knows what kind of crazy, stupid thing people might do until they actually do it. Are you mad that after all these years, he's still got enough pride to tell you what he wants to believe?"

"It's not about Ronnie," Von said. "It's Tiffany. She has to learn, there are men she can't have. _My men_."

Patricio nodded. "Now we're getting down to it, aren't we?" She reached for the door, but he blocked her path. "I knew about you. Junior wrote home about you. He said you were fun, but_ so bossy._ Makes me wonder where Nikki really fits in all this. Is keeping her with Pat what you need to feel better about losing him? Or is it your idea of payback? And let's talk about you a minute. You know what kind of bad place your sister was in when she thought about hurting you. So whathefuck is your excuse? What kinda fuckup did it take to make you want to do this? Did you just look yourself in the mirror one morning and say, `I'm going to hurt four people for the rest of their lives this month'?"

"Get out of my way, Mr. Peoples, or I will scream," Von said.

"Do whatever you want," Patricio said. "It won't change the facts. Holding onto hope can tear your guts out; just look at Pat. But holding onto a grudge will rot you from the inside out, and so will holding onto your control. And you can take it from me, when you try to control everything, that's when you lose it all."

Von's lips peeled back in a snarl, and she raised her hand as if to scratch or slap. Instead, she threw her arms around Patricio and started to sob.


	13. The Good Sign

**Here's the "wrap-up" chapter, which is mostly what I already had in mind. The lyric at the opening is from my pick for the best "Passenger" song I've run across; if anyone wants to look it up, I would recommend a "Tram Session" video. Thanks to everyone who comes through all the way!**

Von and Ronnie ate breakfast by ther fireplace, listening to Passenger: "Sometimes you can't change, and you can't choose, And sometimes it seems you gain less than you lose. Now we got holes in our hearts, Yeah we got holes in our lives... Well we've got holes, we got holes, but we carry on."

Ronnie was telling her about watching the last game of the Birds' season at the Peoples household the day before. "I still say, you should have been there week before last," Ronnie said. "Pat asked me to invite you, and I told you something was going to happen. It was the whole family, and Tiffany was getting along with everybody, especially Patricio... She even went along with it when he caught a neighbor kid wearing a Vikings shirt under his jacket... Then when the game started, she just climbed in Pat's lap, and I swear, they hardly moved until the last time-out. Then, right before the Birds went for the touchdown instead of the goal, he asked her to go help Jeanette get the crab cakes out of the oven. Then when she came back, he was on one knee... Of course, practically everybody had a camera out... And you know what she did? She took his hand, sat back down and said,`Pat, I'm going to tell you something you _don't_ know... I _**love**_ football.' Then DeSean made the throw, and everybody shouted, `YEEESSS!'"

She glanced up from a magazine and smiled. "And hey, Pat wanted to tell you thank you for handling the papers, helping Nikki... Say, is it true she met with Tiffany this week?"

"Yes, Nikki asked for it, so I convinced Tiff to come along for a meeting," Von said. "It was kind of funny, they didn't really talk about Pat. Tiff told Nikki a bit about Pat's self-help stuff, but mostly, Nikki kept asking questions about assertiveness training, and Tiff told her a lot. Then we all shook hands, and Nikki went home."

Ronnie nodded. "It sounds like she's going after what's good for her right now," he said. "I always said, what Nikki needs most is to learn to stand up for herself. I always knew that's why Pat didn't take care of her the way he should have, and I think it's the real reason she had the affair with the other guy; she just couldn't put her foot down with either of them. That self-help stuff, it really could turn things around for her, you know, show her she can run her own life. Then, in a year or two, who knows, she might be ready to try with a guy who's good for..." His already nervous banter trailed off at his wife's downcast gaze.

"Ronnie," she said with dry eyes but a quavering voice, and then she thrust a manilla envelope into his hands. "If this is what you want, I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want. Just... let me see Em."

He leaned over to look at her. "Von... If you need an answer, there's nothing to say."

Pat surveyed the sports section. The Birds were done, and they hadn't gone all the way, but that was okay. Now, the sports page was alight with stories about contract renegotiations and draft picks, including a deal to keep DeSean Jackson. "Synchronicity," he said. Then he picked up to make the call, and tell what needed to be done. Not because it was the alternative to something bad, but because it was good, and it was meant to be.

"Hey, Junior!" he said. "Yeah, I know, but they got a long way, and things are looking very good for next season... I saw it, tha man's still there... Well, actually, no, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I'll tell you why, I wanted to ask you a question... You ready to marry that girl yet?... Of course, but I mean the ceremony... You don't know when? Well,then, I've got an idea for that... How about today?"

Veronica ran toward the sound of Emily's cries, while Ronnie tried to figure out how to silence the squeal of the smoke alarm that had woken her.


End file.
